


Those Nights

by Ryandoingnothing



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Endgame, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Unrequited Love, endgame killed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryandoingnothing/pseuds/Ryandoingnothing
Summary: A canon complaint of what Bucky might have felt after Steve left.





	Those Nights

There he was, _his_ Steve no longer looking the same. His skin had aged, his eyes now carved and sunken deeper into his face, the once blue iris now grey presenting the years that had passed and all the things he had seen; all the things he has seen without him. The night before Bucky already knew he’d known from the moment Steve volunteered to return the stones. It was what he deserved after everything he’d been through Bucky knew that. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt just as bad as it would of if he had no idea, it gave him time to think; was he not enough? Was he too broken that Steve no longer wanted him like a small handcrafted ornament that over time gets chipped and scratched to the point where its just too ugly too keep on display and it’s better to just throw it into a box somewhere; only to appear in the future in a passing thought for the owner to wonder what happened to it. Maybe Steve had never even loved him, maybe on those few nights still so precious to Bucky’s heart that even after the years of torture he still remembered how his heart rate increased and how the butterflies in his stomach seemed to explode into the strongest feeling he’d ever experienced. All those memories of stolen kisses and how he would always remark on how stunning the soft candlelight looked coating Steve’s skin in a sense of warmth; while a light blush scattered over his cheeks. Did he forget those nights or did they simply not matter anymore? 

Bucky knew that times had changed and maybe Steve had never seen him on those nights but instead had seen other girls he may have liked and then Peggy and he was just a substitute for them. But every time Bucky thought back to those nights in the ’30s in Steve’s eyes, the deep blue that they no longer possess he truly thought that Steve was seeing him not someone else it was just them. Memories become warped over time however; they become what you want to see. Maybe there never was a blush or a smile like he remembered, maybe it was a tranquil dream or an act of some sort but his Steve wasn’t that cruel he couldn’t be. No, he wasn’t that was the one thing Bucky could always be sure about Steve wouldn’t hurt him, at least not on purpose. 

Maybe if Bucky had told him the night before how much he still loved him, cared for him, cared for him so much that he was willing to sacrifice everything else for him. What happened to ‘till the end of the line’? Was this the end or was the line only a piece of thread cut short. He wanted to be angry he wanted to ask Steve why? Why he left him, out of time now with no one, if he simply wasn’t good enough anymore, if those nights had meant anything or if he even remembered them anymore. But he wasn’t angry he felt what seemed like everything and nothing but he swore he wouldn’t cry at least not while the people he had come to care about were around him even if they could never understand what the things he had been through felt like. It was like the two people who understood that had played a cruel joke on him and both left just after he finally thought he might be okay. 

But deep into that night, he had cried for the first time, that night alone sleeping on the sofa of a house he was unfamiliar with, with a singular blanket wrapped around him that he had used to dry a few of his tears. He sat there just thinking while all the overwhelming sadness that had seemed to consume him for a time had subsided and he was left feeling numb and hollow as if he was completely disjointed from reality even after just returning to it. He knew the pain would return, it always did but as he sat just thinking, thinking about the fact that Steve was asleep in the next room. Probably for the first time in a long time peacefully. Like he used to back in the ’30s when the only thing he had to worry about was his parent seeing them together. He wondered if Steve would be happy in the past, would he get to do everything he had always wanted to, that he had once wanted to do with Bucky. There was one night they were together it was late into the evening and they sat together, just talking while half asleep half drunk. He didn’t remember the last time he and Steve had just talked now. But as they talked it was as if the only beings that existed were them, they were the only ones that mattered.  
_  
“What do you think it all means?”_

_“What, what all means Steve?”_

_“You know, all of this,” Steve spoke gesturing to the city outside of their thin walls and to the rest of the world._

_“Does it matter.” He spoke with a slight laugh as a smile lined his lips._

_“I just feel like none of it has meaning like it’s this huge cluster of a million different things trying to happen all at once all fighting each other.”_

_“Well, there are millions of people living here Steve.”_

_“I know, I just feel like there has to be more than this.” A slight sense of annoyance lined his voice._

_“There is, it’s called war something I don’t plan on getting wrapped up in any time soon trust me.”_

_“But wouldn’t it be good to fight for something you believe in?” Steve said looking up at Bucky from where he was laying, his head resting on Bucky’s thigh now no longer facing towards the window._

_“I would rather leave the fighting to someone who actually wants to fight.” Another small laugh escaped his lips as he looked down at Steve and started to lace Steve’s hair with his hands._

_Not much else was said that evening until a few hours later where they were both half asleep in each other’s warmth. Bucky then began to speak his voice came out more shaky than before, it was difficult to tell if it was the caused by the alcohol they had both consumed earlier or the prospect of Steve somehow going to fight. “Promise- Promise me something, Steve.” Steve stirred from his light slumber with an almost worried expression plastered onto his face. “Promise me if you somehow manage to enlist because knowing you, you’ll somehow find a way even in your sickly state. That you’ll come back to me, to this house, that you won’t die as a martyr?”  
For a moment it took a second for Steve to process just how heavy the atmosphere around the two of them had become and for his brain to completely interpret what Bucky has just said. But after that moment a loving and doting smile graced his lips and in a soft, sleepy tone he spoke: “Of course till the end of the line, remember?” _

_Bucky leaned down and placed a small, sweet kiss atop Steve’s pink lips, “Till the end of the line”_  
  
He wondered if any of it mattered anymore if he was to go into the room where Steve was sleeping and ask- no beg him not to go and remind him of those nights. If any of it would make a difference anymore or if he would leave all the same, but he knew he wasn’t going to mention it to Steve after all it wasn’t his place to say whom Steve should stay with and love.

But even now when he could see Steve sitting on the bench talking to Sam he wished last night he had reminded him of those nights. Begged him to stay and that his home was here now. Bucky had never thought of himself of selfish but after everything he thought he was allowed to at least be a bit selfish in his actions. But he didn’t know how to say those things that used to come so naturally to him anymore towards Steve, it was as if every time he tried to mutter ‘I love you’ it was as if the words got stuck in his throat. He was scared, scared of if Steve never had loved him and that he had now forgotten; it was like Bucky was just a side character in his story while Steve seemed to be more important to Bucky’s then Bucky himself. 

But at least he would always have the memories of his Steve, asleep in his arms, his skin soft to the touch, the candlelight they so heavily preferred in the evenings bathing him in a golden light that gave him this beautiful, healthy look. His lips so soft and the colour of a light pink almost like roses and his hair matching the candlelight with its hay like colouring. Every kiss, every time they had shared a twin bed even though with anyone else it would be a cramped experience but with Steve it felt as if that was the most comfortable place to be. He would never forget how his eyes used to look like the ocean as if you were looking at it from the sky; they were so blue that it was like you could drown in them. But yet they were so soft and loving like they cared for every single soul they landed on. To Bucky, Steve was perfect even his imperfections made him fall ever more in love with him. 

Late that night back on the same sofa he had occupied the previous night he cried as silently as he could until he mind and body were too drained to carry on, as he let out on more shaky breath and wiped his tear stained cheeks with his blanket before slipping into unconsciousness. Now all he had were memories of those nights and a lie they had kept telling each other, _“I’m with you till the end of the line.”_


End file.
